Deep Down
by Professor Maka
Summary: With the threat of Asura looming large, Tsubaki and her closest friends in Spartoi train hard at group resonance. When they discover their link is tainted by a mysterious darkness, they must work together to explore each soul and ease the madness that grips them, for if they are to have a chance to defeat the very essence of fear, they must first conquer the fear within themselves.
1. Resonance

A/N: Hello and welcome to my first Reverb offering for 2018, a Canon mangaverse fic featuring Tsubaki, Maka, Soul, Kid, Black Star, Liz, and Patti. Thanks so much to my artist, Insecure, for a great concept and truly inspiring art, and to my betas, Sahdah, Sandman, and Tiff, who pulled an all nighter behind me to help make sure this isn't a hot mess. CW for canon level violence, language, and portrayals of mental illness.

Enjoy!

* * *

It's hard to believe they're training again, as if the world weren't falling apart. It feels like the last thing they should be doing, but what else can be done with the Kishin so hidden even as his influence becomes increasingly pervasive? What else can be done with Crona still at large and spreading their own brand of madness?

Even her meister can sense they aren't strong enough to face so much; were the Kishin standing on the steps of Shibusen staring them all down, their strength would surely fall short. They need to be stronger, all of them, even Black*Star. Even Kid. Even herself, the shadow weapon, the inheritor of her brother's taint and her family's soul.

So they train.

They train and they focus and they pray to Death that it will be enough.

It's exhausting, this new training, to maintain a group link as they all attempt to manipulate the wavelength Maka shares through her weapon's music. It's especially exhausting for Tsubaki, who must struggle to keep her fragmented soul whole in the midst of such light, but it is a burden she bears quietly-there is no reason to worry the others when she is fully capable of handling the situation. She wonders if Stein had realized how difficult it might prove for her to maintain such a strong tie to Maka's anti-demon wavelength when he suggested they work to wield that wavelength as a collective. If the sadistic gleam of his glasses punctuated by a predatory smile in her direction had been anything to go on, she suspects he had been well aware.

Does Soul face such difficulty as well, with his infection and propensity for madness? A glance his way suggests he's more bored than anything, but then again, she maintains a facade of her own that reveals little. Still, Maka is his partner. They resonate regularly, so he must be used to the anti-demon wavelength, aside from which, she very much doubts he's trying to protect his inner madness. If only she could say the same.

Perhaps the most difficult part of all of this is that she feels that madness spreading the longer they train, the longer they are linked through Soul's music and Maka's wavelength. She must be wrong-how could linking to Maka make madness spread?

Yet she _feels_ it. And this madness is new. It's _different_.

There are signs, too, subtle yet there. Bickering amongst the group is at an all time high, and sure, it's a stressful situation and everyone is tense and bickering isn't exactly abnormal for them-except when Liz is snapping at Patti and Kid is snapping at all, that's completely out of character. She herself had even snapped at Black*Star, her patience with everything worn thin, and she never snaps at _anyone_ , let alone her meister. As they pause again, she decides it's time to speak up. Something is _wrong_ and it serves no one to ignore what she feels so clearly, attuned to the darkness that has become a part of her own soul.

It's lunch time, so the various packed meals they've brought to the training field are being opened, the rustling of bags and packages audible even among the subdued chatter of the group.

"Um, everyone," she begins, never quite comfortable being the center of attention. Tsubaki is a creature of shadow and subtlety-the spotlight has never suited her even if her meister compares her to the stars. Then again, maybe that's accurate. Her light is subtle, soft, scattered, filled in with shadow. She isn't the moon, isn't the center as her meister prefers, but in the background, as she was always meant to be. Still, it needs to be said.

Her friends have not noticed her attempt to get their attention, too absorbed by the dubious enticement of hastily packed sandwiches-no one has the energy for meticulously prepared meals of late, not even her.

"I think something is wrong!" she says, projecting more loudly. At this, six pairs of eyes swivel in her direction in varying states of surprise.

Kid is the first to recover enough to speak, but the group scattered around the small, grassy clearing keep their eyes on her. Next to her, Black*Star displays a rare frown.

"Is everything alright?" Kid asks, voice mild.

"No, it isn't." Tsubaki's voice is harder than she means it to be but she's _worried_.

"Perhaps you could elaborate? Are you not feeling well, or-"

"It's the group link. There's-something wrong. A darkness, a taint. Can't you sense it?" She looks at Kid for a moment, then turns her eyes to Maka. "Can't _you_?"

Maka frowns at this. "I hadn't noticed anything different, no. Maybe you're feeling the black blood?"

"I don't think so." Tsubaki shakes her head. "Or if it is, then it's spreading or-I'm not sure."

Multiple frowns have spread across the group, much like the contagion she feels. They know her well enough, all of them, that they must know she wouldn't speak her mind unless she were certain.

"Alright, then." Maka stands, dusts off her skirt, looks around the group. "Let's try it again and maybe Kid and I can see what's going on."

Next to where she had been sitting, back against a tree, Soul rolls his eyes. "Or maybe we could actually finish lunch first." When Maka looks about to say something, eyes narrowing down his way, he adds more quietly. "Everyone is exhausted, and hungry. Ten minutes isn't going to make a difference."

Maka deflates, and Kid speaks up.

"He's right. Let's finish lunch, then we can investigate further. I also failed to sense this, so I'm glad you brought it to our attention, Tsubaki."

"Of course," she says, ignoring the sound of her meister hastily shoveling in a peanut butter and banana sandwich to get through the six she's packed him. Tsubaki takes a bite of the onigiri she's put together for herself, appetite lost in concern. Around her, the sounds of chewing are prominent, and she wishes Patti weren't across from her, shoveling in fists full of Doritos in her haste to get through them. She notices Maka isn't touching the onigiri she brought for her, and Kid and Liz have also stopped eating. This can hardly surprise her. Kid doesn't need to eat, Liz gets nauseous when she's worried, and Maka seems entirely lost in thought, eyes glassy as she attunes her soul perception to the group one at a time, frown still fixed on her face. Next to her, Soul continues to eat his own sandwich at a leisurely pace and says something quietly to Maka that Tsubaki can't hear. The meister snaps her attention to him, concentration broken, but nods and takes a bite of her onigiri.

Soon after, Patti pokes her sister in the ribs who takes a reluctant bite of some sort of chocolate covered bar. Good. They'll need the energy.

Fifteen minutes later, they're back up, standing in a large clearing among the trees of the training forest, three meisters with weapons in hand. The sun is high in the sky, dappling them with shadow and light through the canopy of leaves overhead, though as the group begins their linked resonance, the eerie loveliness of filtered light is replaced by the glow of their souls made manifest, filling the clearing with an overwhelming brightness that would probably make Tsubaki squint were she not in weapon form. The music of Soul's piano echoes through her, and she feels the strength of that light, tenuous and strained as the ties may be, like a spider's web pulled tight. Tsubaki basks in that careful balance between them all, their strength combined, but the darkness yet remains, weaving through the light like the dapple cast by the leaves above.

Kid and Maka both look glassy-eyed as their gaze moves from each other to Black*Star and back again. The music stops an instant later, a discordant clash of surprise, and the link ends.

"You saw?" Maka looks at Kid, lips pursed.

"I did, though I could not sense the source." Kid looks as unfazed as ever, voice even.

"Yeah, me neither." She heaves a frustrated sigh.

"We'll have to go to Professor Stein. He'll-"

"Oh, come _on!_ " Black*Star cuts him off. "We don't need Doctor Slice 'n Dice for this, we can-"

Sensing the rising tension, Tsubaki phases out of weapon form. As always, the feeling is both strange and right as she takes just one of her many shapes, the one that is not steel. She places a restraining hand on her meister's shoulder. "Black*Star." Her voice is measured and careful. "Kid's right. There's something going on, and Professor Stein will be able to help us figure out what. You know if Maka or Kid had an idea of what this is or how to fix it, we'd already be doing it."

He looks like he's about to argue, but his chest, puffed out in anticipation, deflates. "Alright, whatever," Black*Star grumbles.

"Then it's decided. I'll go get the professor." Kid looks even more restrained and tense than usual as he takes it upon himself to conjure his skateboard and fly off to find Stein, weapons still in hand.

Returning with Stein, yet another group resonance, and Stein's long, thoughtful pause as he looks over the group one by one, it all passes in a blur. The gleam of his glasses in the dappled light is hardly a comfort as the professor clears his throat, one finger tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"You saw it, Professor?" Maka sounds almost anxious as she breaks the tense silence post resonance.

"I did."

The younger meister's impatience is nearly palpable. They have been friends long enough that Tsubaki is well aware of Maka's need for answers and action-uncertainty doesn't suit her at all, her fingers fidgeting with her skirt hem marking her discomfort.

She's not the only one. Beside her, Maka's weapon sighs in boredom that more likely masks anxiety while Patti breaks the silence by humming "Yankee Doodle" across the way. After another minute that the professor, in all his mildly sadistic tendencies, must deem adequate torment, he finally clears his throat.

"There is a dark thread in your collective resonance and I'm not sure of the source. My suggestion would be to perform a guided group resonance in which you use your connection to enter the souls of every member of the group and methodically seek the corruption to cleanse each of you from the inside out using Maka's anti-demon wavelength. Start with some of the less-" his gaze sweeps towards Tsubaki then Black*Star, who is currently upside down next to her, balancing on one finger in a display of his usual restlessness, before moving to Liz and Patti, the elder standing with her lips pursed, hands on hips, the younger currently cross legged on the ground working on a puzzle cube "-susceptible of the group, then work your way to those who regularly possess a higher level of madness." He adjusts his spectacles as he looks at Soul, who stares back at him blankly and shrugs as if to suggest he's too cool to care. They all may know better, but it doesn't stop him from wearing the facade.

"Enter the souls-" Maka frowns thoughtfully, hands now stilled on her skirt. "You mean-like the black room?"

"Ah, hm." The professor nods towards Maka, a smile that is a hair too pleased creeping onto his features. "Much like that, yes. But the-black room, as you've described it-appears to be a more limited space within your weapon's soul. This will be much more like your connection with Crona."

Kid, who has been quiet until now, finally speaks. "So we simply resonate as a group and-decide to enter each soul?" He sounds confused or perhaps skeptical, Tsubaki isn't sure which.

"Precisely,," Stein says. "Though it may take a bit of work to pinpoint where you want to go."

"And then-we cleanse this darkness using Maka's wavelength," Kid asks. "How does that work?"

Maka nods from where she stands several feet away, clearly having similar reservations.

"To be frank? I'm not sure." The group looks poised to pounce, but Stein raises a hand to cut off protest before it can begin. "When you sought Crona." He rests his gaze on Maka, adjusting his glasses carefully. "You cleansed them by forcing them outside of their isolation, as you described it, because that was what held them in place-fear of others. What the madness latches on to will likely vary for each of you, prying at your weak points. I can't tell you how to cleanse it because I don't know, but as with Crona, you should be able to work out the solution once you discover the root of the problem."

Another nod from Maka, this time at Stein. For herself, Tsubaki can admit she's leery. The other, hotter, feeling she quashes. Her soul isn't Maka's soul, and the rage of so many generations she inherited cannot possibly heal-there had been no cleansing her brother.

"Okay, professor," Maka says, voice firm. The determination is familiar; there's no going back now. "I understand. Do you wish to oversee?"

"I think it best." His voice is as flat and bored as usual, though, as he cranks the screw in his head, there is a glint of clinical interest in his green-gray eyes that makes Tsubaki suppress a shudder. "Given this will involve a deathscythe along with a death god, it hardly seems prudent to proceed without adequate supervision. I'll be bringing in Spirit as well, in case I find myself in need of a weapon."

The pigtailed meister bristles visibly at the mention of bringing in her father, but to her credit, says nothing.

It isn't long before their group is all sitting in a circle, hands clasped. Maka insists that the physical connection in the world will help them to stay together in the soul. Tsubaki knows the theory as well, but her experience with soul deep corruption has taught her that it's far less simple than it sounds in a textbook, and though she knows her friends are also aware of this, especially Maka, her experience is different. Then again, with Crona still out on a rampage in the world at large, maybe it's more similar than she credits. Tsubaki remains silent, unwilling to voice her own uncertainty. She's done her part in drawing attention to the problem-she will not darken the process with her doubt when it is driven by pain rather than prudency.

"So we resonate?" Maka looks up at Stein, who stands next to her father, far outside their circle. Spirit is up against a tree, trying and failing to look nonchalant. His patented hysterics in greeting his daughter done, he now just looks _worried_. It frankly makes Tsubaki more nervous; if Spirit Albarn is serious, then it must be bad.

"You resonate," Stein's drawl interrupts her thoughts. "You'll have to do it without the piano-" he raises a hand preemptively as he had earlier "-none of you can have the type of split focus Soul would need to maintain it, and even if that weren't the case, should this be related to the black blood, it would only help the infection spread. Fortunately, you are all well enough used to group resonance that the type of group connection you'll need to maintain should be achievable. It focuses on depth not power, and it has been a clash of control at the root of your prior issues."

That may be understating to call it a clash of control. More like a clash of ego and strong wills. However, Black*Star and Maka have both gotten better at reading each other's souls because there had been no choice, so they should be able to manage. As usual, their weapons will assist, the more comfortable resonance helping ease into one far less so. Even with the piano, Tsubaki works constantly to help Black*Star pull back _just enough._ Just enough would have to be-more, she supposes, but she would handle it.

Their first attempts are fairly predictable without the piano. It's been so long since they've even tried unaided by the natural connective abilities of their group deathscythe that even the most surface connection is tenuous and ends explosively the instant they attempt to go deeper. Frustration, difficult to avoid as they try and fail and try and fail again, only makes things worse. Tensions mount and writhe and that is not how this is going to succeed.

The surprise comes with Liz's voice, as they are on their seventh break, an hour gone by.

"We need music," she says matter of factly, one long nail tapping her chin.

"But, sis-" Patti begins as Black*Star scoffs, rolling his eyes, "Professor screw head already told us Soul can't do his weird piano shit, so-"

"Not Soul," Liz cuts him off, and suddenly she has the full attention of the group. Each had been engaged in their own conversations, but even Stein looks up from his book. Spirit has fallen asleep against a tree, the lack of progress and what must be his exhaustion at being stretched too thin as death's primary weapon finally catching up with him. Black*Star had already enjoyed snickering at his drool and had to be held back bodily by Kid not to draw on the elder deathscythe's face with a sharpie.

"Okaaaaaay." Black*Star folds his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised. "But I don't see any other assholes hanging around with soul pianos, so-"

"We sing."

"We-sing?" Maka blinks-everyone knows she can't carry a tune.

"Yep," Liz highlights the P with a pop of her gum. "We decide on a song, and we all sing, together. Focus us on something in common."

"It's-actually a really good idea." This comes from Soul, though there's a slight grimace on his face. Tsubaki guesses he's not looking forward to the inevitable sonic mess; he takes music quite seriously, she's discovered over the years.

"I agree. Why don't you all try it," Stein says with a push of his glasses before his eyes return to his book.

They quickly run into a problem-they don't listen to the same type of music, so coming up with a song everyone knows the lyrics to is yet another challenge.

Everything from "Shots" to selections from _Les Miserables_ are thrown out as possibilities, but inevitably, no one knows all the lyrics.

"I've got it!" Patti exclaims into a lull. Six skeptical pair of eyes rotate in her direction-Stein is still focused on his book, and Spirit snoring. Patti's last suggestion had been "What Does the Fox Say," so the skepticism is warranted. "Tubthumping!"

Soul groans, Liz shrugs, and Maka and Kid both exclaim, "What now?" at the same time Black*Star pumps his fist with a "YOSH!" Tsubaki is in the dark right along with Maka and Kid, but says nothing.

"Oh, come _on_!" Patti rolls her eyes, hopping up from where she'd been picking grass to weave into bracelets. "I get knocked down-" she illustrates this by falling to rear, then jumps to her feet again "-but I get up again, you are never gonna keep me down!"

"Ohhhh!" Maka exclaims with a wide smile. Kid makes a bit of a face but nods. Soul groans yet again. Tsubaki finds herself nodding as well. It could work.

For her part, Liz hums and also nods. "Simple lyrics, everyone's heard it, could work. Nice, Sis." She grins Patti's way, who gives her a return grin and thumbs up. "We all know the lyrics?" Her sharp gaze scans the group, and more nods follow. Soul looks visibly in pain but still nods.

"It's ON!" Patti does a little jig in place and it's hard not to smile at her enthusiasm.

The group circles up again, holding hands for good measure, and the singing begins after Liz's suggestion of, "On three. And remember." Her eyes fall on Soul. "You have to at least try to mean it." Soul nods, and the fact he doesn't roll his eyes is a near miracle. "One. Two. Three!"

"I get knocked down!" They all sing-shout, Patti jumping up and down in place next to her, shaking her hand, Black*Star similarly enthusiastic on her other side. Tsubaki's arms may not survive this. "But I get up again! You are never gonna keep me down!" The pairs are already resonating, and as Maka does a little twist with her hips across from them, Tsubaki can't help but notice even her reluctant partner smiles her way at that. The song does well represent her grit. All of their grit, really. Maybe this _can_ work.

What nearly breaks their building resonance just for an instance is when they approach the bridge and Black*Star and Patti croon in one, slightly off key falsetto, "Pissing the night away… Pissing the night awaaaay!" It suits them so well, however, wide smiles follow the shock, and the song continues. Their group resonance is solid. It's actually working!

It's working so well, they come to near the end of the song and suddenly, a blink later, their souls draw their consciousness away and they all find themselves in a field of red flowers, blue sky stretched out endlessly above them with a line of white clouds between and stretching into the endless horizon. The others look a bit confused but Tsubaki knows the place well.

They've arrived within her soul.


	2. Darkness and Light

Maka is the first to speak, her soul perception quickly giving her insight. "Your soul is beautiful." Their current connection tells Tsubaki she means it; it's difficult hide emotion or intent when resonating so deeply.

"Wait." Black*Star looks confused. "This isn't-" he concentrates, looks even more confused. "I mean, I guess it _is_ your soul, but why is it so different from-before?" The contemplative expression he wears is rare.

"My soul is mine, yet not," she tries to explain. It's not something she well understands herself; it simply is, like the color of her hair or the sharpness of her blade. "What you saw was the ancient part, handed down the Nakatsukasa line since our origins, my warrior soul I share with my ancestors, and will share with all who come after me. This part is mine and mine alone." She doesn't mention that's not quite true, and really, it's not important. The fact she shares it is also for her alone.

"Huh, cool. It suits you." Black*Star offers her a grin and she smiles back. Does it suit her? It is her own soul so it must, and yet, she's never really considered the idea for all the time she spends here while in weapon form, consciousness split with the outside world.

A giggle to her left interrupts the line of thought as Patti falls back into the endless carpet of flowers that surround them. "So soft and pretty!" she says before an indignant, "Hey!" comes out. When the normally bubbly blonde resurfaces, she's wearing a pout as she plucks black thorns from the backs of her calves and arms, the visible manifestation of her soul fully capable of experiencing pain even if she can't suffer actual harm. Or, Tsubaki doesn't think she can experience harm, not unless she were to be consumed as her brother was. As she nearly was herself. Still, she helps her friend pluck the thorns with a murmured sorry, guilt inescapable.

"So," Kid says, stepping closer to Maka. "Where do we begin?" As the only two with soul perception, this will very much be their show and everyone knows it.

For her part, Maka is wearing a decided frown. She shakes her head slightly as Kid approaches. "I'm not-sure. I thought, once we were here, I could pinpoint what I sensed in the resonance, but I don't think-" she shakes her head again. "I can't because it's _everywhere._ "

"I came to the same conclusion, but that doesn't make sense either. Perhaps it is a matter for further concentration."

"Are you suggesting that I'm not concentrating hard enough?" Her voice is thick with indignation.

"Not at all," Kid says mildly. "I am merely suggesting that resonance should boost your ability to its fullest potential."

"But we're already-" Maka begins to protest, clearly exasperated, but as Tsubaki glances her way she notes her countenance shift into one of understanding. " _Oh!_ Okay, I think I get what you're thinking. We can try it, anyway."

There's some movement to her left, but Tsubaki is too focused on her thorn picking and the conversation nearby to have any concentration left for what the others are doing as they inhabit her soul space. Soul steps into view a moment later, tilting his head at Maka in question. As much as they are all connected in the moment, the partners are inevitably resonating even more deeply.

"We need to boost my perception so I can figure out what I'm sensing, and Kid and I think if the two of us build a stronger resonance it should work. The madness we felt can't be everywhere or it would have taken over, but right now, it feels that way."

"Looks like you need your weapon." Soul grins her way.

"I always need my weapon, idiot." Maka rolls her eyes through a faint blush at the admission and it strikes Tsubaki how much her friend has grown. Whatever happened in the Book of Eibon, it has left the scythe meister more open to relying on others, to acknowledging that she doesn't need to do it all alone. Tsubaki also noticed after the book that the partnership between Maka and her weapon is even more solid, closer-but that will happen when two people are tempered in the flames of adversity, just as it had for herself and Black*Star.

There must be some sort of unspoken agreement between them, because he stands behind her just after, hands on her shoulders, and both close their eyes. Soul cannot take weapon form here, in the space that is her soul, but even if he could, it would be as false as his body is now. The form is irrelevant-it's the connection matters, so their souls become closer as they concentrate. Here, the glow is invisible, though Tsubaki suspects it would be bright within the world where their bodies still sit. As it is, she senses the power they wield together, power used for sight not harm, and wonders if this is how her strongest resonance with Black*Star would feel for the others when they are all so closely tied in group resonance.

Next to her, Patti stills to watch, as do the others.

Time is strange here within her soul, but in what feels like perhaps a minute, Maka opens her eyes and Soul follows.

"You found it?" Kid asks, hopeful.

"I think so, yes. It was still difficult to pinpoint, but I think-it's the flowers. Or-part of them."

Understanding dawns in his golden eyes like the rising of the sun. "The thorns!"

"Oooooooh!" This comes from Black*Star, who hops up in his excitement. "A goddess as strong as Tsubaki would have thorns on her flowers, but no way they'd be all ugly and black, I should have known!"

Tsubaki needs to change the direction here, because she knows the thorns contain darkness, madness, but she also knows that this is not new. Perhaps it has spread with this latest incursion of madness into their group link, but it is not the issue.

"Actually," Tsubaki says, drawing all eyes her way. "The thorns are a part of me, that part which represents my ancestral soul. They are nothing new." She doesn't mention, will not mention that they are also that part where her brother's soul yet lingers. "I do not think this madness has reached me. The thorns are a part of me as they long have been."

The looks her friends level at her vary from Liz's skepticism to something very like understanding from both Kid and Soul, but Maka's frown appears thoughtful.

"Even so," the scythe meister says. "I could work to lessen it, cleanse it. It may be infected with whatever has spread."

Tsubaki shakes her head. "No," she says, and it's sharper than she intends. "To do so will fix nothing and may cause harm to my own soul. Please-"

"Could you try to contain it?" Kid asks.

"I-maybe? I've been able to do so with the black blood, but it's not-not exactly intentional, I guess. But I could try. If-" Maka looks to the shadow weapon, clearly hesitant. The sharpness of that earlier refusal has made her cautious, and Tsubaki feels a pang of guilt along with her own worry over tampering within her soul.

Unclear on how that would even be possible, Tsubaki asks, "How would you manage it?"

"I think, if Soul and I resonate again, we can pinpoint things enough to just contain. It's not-easy to explain?"

"It's the web," Soul says from where he now stands beside her. He's tall enough that Tsubaki actually has to look slightly up at him now, a recent change that still surprises her after years of looking down at all of her friends save Liz. She has similar thoughts about her meister, who now meets her eyes levally, when she bothers to think on it at all.

"Web?" This comes from Kid as Maka nods and Soul continues.

"Arachne's web-it's one of the things that I picked up when I became a deathscythe. It's why our group resonance is so much easier now, and it also helped me boost Maka's soul perception. But I think-I think we can maybe use it to isolate and contain the madness in the thorns."

"You think?" And maybe Tsubaki sounds skeptical, but this is her soul and her darkness.

He scrubs one hand through his hair. "Theoretically? I mean, it's not like-"

Maka reaches a hand up to place on his shoulder, placating. "This is new for us, too, but we both think we can make it work."

There is a sincerity there that radiates soul deep, so Tsubaki nods. The fear is real, but she squashes it down where no one can see-she's used to suppressing her feelings when she must. Trust has never been easy for her, not since her brother left the first time, but her friends have earned hers many times over. She will trust them now even if the darkness screams at her not to.

"Alright, we'll try. If-if you feel like we're doing something that-something wrong, you can tell us and we'll stop, okay?" Maka says.

Tsubaki nods again, and because they deserve to know adds, "I trust you."

The smile from the scythe meister reassures, perhaps, because it is so genuine.

They stand again, his hands on her shoulders, looking serene together as they resonate more deeply. Again their power is felt rather than seen in this form, though the light that begins to radiate in beads all around them is achingly real. The light coalesces on flower stems, one after the other, the flowers around them radiating an eerie glow with each new bead of light that clings to its individual thorn. Minutes pass, or is it hours? It seems like all time and no time and then it's done.

As the pair open their eyes, the glow remains. Tsubaki feels the darkness within, muted but still there, intact, whole, and breathes a sigh.

"It's okay?" Maka looks worried and hopeful.

"It's okay," Tsubaki agrees. "Thank you." She hopes they can feel her sincerity. Tsubaki is very good at masking her emotions, even in resonance, even when so deeply connected, but she feels this strongly, the need to protect that darkness in ways it never could protect itself.

With nothing left to do in the moment, the group agrees to move on, and the relief she feels to leave her own soul breezes through the group like a breath of fresh air, temporarily lifting the collective darkness.

* * *

It turns out, traveling to another soul isn't quite as easy as it sounds.

How does the group decide to move on and actually make it happen? This isn't like the Book of Eibon; there's no guide through their joined essences and they've never done anything quite like this before. They decide that they'll move next to Black*Star, because the madness has only just touched him, but actually doing so is something else entirely.

They try willing it. Asking for it. Focusing on it-none of it _works._

As before, perhaps predictably, it's Liz who hits on the answer, suggesting they try singing together again, but when they shout out "Tubthumping" in their little joined circle, nothing happens.

"Hmmm." Kid looks puzzled. "It did work to bring us here. Why it shouldn't work to move us is fairly perplexing."

"Well, maybe it's the wrong song," Patti says with a small laugh.

Kid blinks. "The wrong-song?"

"Well, yeah. 'Cause Tsubaki is really strong, right, and she keeps standing no matter what. And somewhere in there is a caged wild woman to be a good pair with someone like Star, so maybe 'Tubthumping' works for her, but maybe not for him. 'Cause, yeah, it fits the part he shows but maybe not the part inside, ya know?"

Every once in awhile, Patti is so insightful it's almost frightening. This is one of those times. Black*Star is not only his facade, not at core, and when you get past the show he puts on, 'Tubthumping' doesn't suit him at all.

So what _does?_

"Terrible Lie," Maka says matter of factly, arms crossed as if to suggest there could be no other choice. Tsubaki might have known it would be his oldest friend who would suggest something that does speak to what he hides most deeply.

"What, now?" This comes from Kid, who looks decidedly confused.

"It's _Nine Inch Nails,_ " Liz says from his side.

"Pfffft," Black*Star scoffs at this revelation. "As if. You gotta be thinkin' of your weapon, 'cause I ain't some emo-assed-" Tsubaki puts a placating hand on his arm to halt him.

"This isn't about every part of you, but trying to get to what is most buried. I think it's worth trying, okay?" She expects to have to argue, but even he seems to realize his front is only a hindrance in this place, because he kicks the ground. "Yeah, yeah, okay, we'll do the emo shit."

Tsubaki isn't surprised Black*Star knows the song in spite of any feigned ignorance-he has a pretty extensive collection of angry rock and industrial he listens to when he thinks no one will notice. Kid's ignorance, however, is real, and they have to teach him the song, something she's grateful for since hearing a song and knowing a song are two different things. Soon enough, with a bit of effort, they can all sing it, and so the circle begins anew. Somehow, the humor of the group sing-shouting such a dark song in varying degrees of off key only adds to it being essentially _Black*Star._

This time, it works. At this point, Tsubaki isn't surprised.

Neither is she surprised by the landscape of his soul. They find themselves inside a theater that looks suspiciously like Shakespeare's Globe, the stage strewn with roses, a spotlight amidst the shadows illuminating one portion of the stage with luminescence so bright they might have been at a Vegas stage show; the anachronism is less dizzying than the intensity of such blinding light.

On the main floor just below the stage sit a row of large, overstuffed, reclining black leather seats each embroidered with a massive star on the headrest that are even more clearly anachronistic, and it's here that the group find themselves seated. Bending to take one of the roses that has ended up near her feet, Tsubaki notes that it is littered with thick, sharp, black thorns.

There is the sound of footsteps on the stage and a puppet on strings approaches.

"Whaaaa?" Patti shouts, and this really is a bit of a surprise. Tsubaki's own soul space had been devoid of anything but flowers, but here there is movement. Here there is life as an audience comprised of more puppets on strings that reach to the ceiling and beyond begins to surround them. The difference isn't lost on her

The puppet on stage, a vaguely humanoid figure that looks something like a human caricature of Excalibur, with pale skin, a long nose, beady black eyes, and wearing a crisp white suit, cane in one hand, blinks down at them expectantly.

"Well, are you gonna do your thing or what?" Black*Star sounds unusually impatient as glares at the puppet on stage from his seat next to her.

From down the aisle, Maka lets out a frustrated noise. "We're trying, it's just not _working_. This isn't the same thing as Tsubaki-we were containing that, not trying to eliminate it, and I think-" Tsubaki peers down to see her bite her lip in concentration, eyes still closed. Next to her, Soul also has his eyes closed, face impassive, their hands clenched together tightly on the arm rest between them. "I think we can direct my wavelength, but in the end-well, with Crona, they had to face the darkness themselves, overcome their fear. Maybe you do, too."

"Figures," he says with an eye roll. "Can't have a big show without the big star. Let's do this!" He hops onto the stage, striking a heroic pose, and the puppet clears his throat.

And then, from the darkness behind the stage, someone starts to beatbox.

"Sit right down and listen well," the Excalibur-like puppet begins to rap. "I'll tell you of a hero who was born in hell. He's lean and mean but there's lots to lose. God or demon, which path will he choose?"

Tsubaki expects to see the story of Black*Star's life, and in some ways, his life isn't so different from hers—both face a legacy of dark power. It's why they fit together so well, why they have come to understand each other so fully.

The story they get, however, is some odd mashup of fairytale and reality. A cottage with a puppet who looks weirdly like Sid. A beanstalk with a giant puppet resembling Mifune. A hero's journey with puppet companions resembling all of them. Black*Star seems to relish the attention-that is, until the finale.

Puppet Godzilla takes the stage, though he sports a tuft of white hair on his head and has a star tattoo on one arm. "Walk my path and take my power," the monster's voice is both rough and oddly refined. "The path of destruction is the way to surpass the gods themselves, you need only walk it. You rely on others, you trust others, but the true god stands alone—for true power you must use others, you must obliterate others."

It's the first time in the entire play, if it can even be called a play, that she sees Black*Star take pause. His journey has been for power and now he has found it, but that power comes with a price. To take the power he seeks, he must become the monster he would slay. Ambition has always been his light and his darkness, his strength and his weakness.

"Shyeah, like that got my clan anywhere." He's oddly serious as he stares up at the puppet, almost as if he's forgotten this is a show. Perhaps it isn't one, after all. The path to easy power has always been there, tempting, and here it has come again, the path, the fear of becoming his father. The power calls to his soul even still, to the deepest part of him. Will he take the easy path, the broad way that leaves a swath of pain and death, or continue on the uphill journey as he long has, scaling the mountain inch by inch with friends at his side?

"You're stronger than them, stronger than _him._ The power is yours to claim."

"Yeah?" Black*Star appears to consider and the monster nods, clearly pleased. Tsubaki holds her breath. Her meister is stronger than this puppet show, isn't he? He _has_ to be.

"Well, that line of shit mighta worked on my old man, but I'm too big a star to need to step all over the little guys to get to the top. So fuck off, ya overstuffed lizard!"

In a dizzying flash of moves, the puppet is on the ground and Black*Star stands triumphantly atop it.

"I'm way too awesome to be some lame puppet's-uh-puppet!" He strikes a heroic pose to mad applause and Tsubaki finds herself laughing and clapping along. How could she have doubted her partner, even for an instant? She notices small flashes of light as the roses strewing the stage begin to vanish, but moments later, new roses pile up amidst thundering applause, tossed from the crowd. One lands in her lap and she lifts it up, noting the distinct lack of thorns.

In the end, they have to drag Star off the stage amidst the fifth encore of applause, Kid and Maka hauling him unhappily into the wings.

"It's gone, we can go," Kid finally gets in amidst Black*Star's loud protests.

Black*Star plops to the ground, sitting criss cross with a half pout half scowl as the others decide where to go next and what song to use. Tsubaki offers him a soothing squeeze to the shoulder as they wait, and the brilliant, crooked smile he flashes in return reminds her of why she's so lucky to have him as a partner.

After a minute, Maka declares they'll work through Patti's soul next. Liz offers up "Can't Pin Me Down" by Marina and the Diamonds as the best song for her, and soon enough, they're off once more.


	3. Family

They find themselves outside an enormous boxing ring, darkness all around them. It's several times the size of anything a human would be able to use, bathed in light, and they find they have to climb their way in to get any kind of lay of the land. Climbing up is a bit of a struggle, but they manage, and the lowest rope is so high they walk right under.

Being inside the ring doesn't tell them much else. It's completely barren but for the the other set of ropes off in the far distance.

Tsubaki guesses it's fitting, as such things must be. Patti is a fighter; she's been fighting her entire life. That a fighting ring represents her isn't exactly shocking.

"Cool, isn't it?" Patti says as she bounds off ahead, the others scurrying to follow. "Reminds me of when Ma used to take us to the fights, remember, Sis?" she calls back over her shoulder.

Liz stifles a grimace. "Yeah, I remember."

"It was _so_ cool!"

By the expression on her face as her sister turns her head to start skipping, Liz doesn't think so, and Tsubaki can guess why. The other girl doesn't confide much or often, but one dark night when they'd all been sleeping over at her apartment, the boys off elsewhere, after Patti and Maka had fallen asleep and they were still up talking, haltingly, cautiously of family, Liz had told her that their mother had abandoned them at a fight, had brought them, left for snacks, and never returned. They still don't have the first clue where she'd gone, and the elder demon pistol had admitted quietly how she hoped for Patti's sake that their mother is dead, because her sister doesn't remember how bad things had been and she'd rather Patti keep what good memories she has of their mother since Liz herself doesn't have that luxury. There had been no good-but Patti had been too young to see it.

Walking closer, Tsubaki offers a reassuring squeeze to her friend's shoulder and though Liz says nothing, the shadow weapon feels the faintest echo of gratitude come from her. Sometimes just knowing you aren't alone means everything; Tsubaki herself had found that out the hard way.

They keep moving, waiting for something, anything to happen, before reaching the center of the ring, but there's nothing.

"Well, this is exciting," Black*Star says with an exaggerated yawn.

Kid and Maka both look glassy eyed as they peer around, but exchange a mutual frown shortly after.

Patti bounces excitedly, though, anticipation palpable. "Just wait. My friends should be here soon!"

"Friends?" Soul mouths to Maka who shrugs, just as confused as he is.

"Uh, Patti-" Liz starts, but trails off as music begins. Very loud music.

"The Eye of the Tiger," is so overwhelming that Tsubaki instinctually covers her ears, most of the others doing the same, though Patti just starts dancing happily in place, doing a very enthusiastic version of the moonwalk.

"They're coming!" she squeals loudly enough to be heard even over the music and through Tsubaki's hands, but who 'they' are is anyone's guess. The shaking of the ring is ominous, however, as the music reaches a crescendo and figures appear on the horizon. They draw closer under the glaring artificial light and Tsubaki has to remove her hands from her ears to rub her eyes because are those really…?

But they are. Enormous walking teddy bears approach from all sides, each at least twice the height of the tallest among them.

The song ends and they are left surrounded by a ring of towering teddy bears. Each bear has an equally oversized daisy wreath on its head dotted with incongruous black thorns.

"Are those Bos-" Liz begins, but is cut off.

"Fuck yeah, this is what I'm talkin' bout!" Black*Star yells as he takes a fighting stance. "Yaa-" The rest is cut off as Patti tackles him to the ground from behind.

"What the-" She covers his mouth with a hand, looking down at him sternly. "They aren't for fighting, silly, they're friends. They're for _hugging._ "

As she removes her hand, his skeptical, "Hugging?" is echoed by several other voices in the ring.

"M'hmmm. Try it!" She leaps off him to demonstrate, bounding into the arms of the nearest bear who scoops her up into a massive hug, then looks down on her friends. "See? You guys try, it's awesome!"

They all look at each other skeptically, but Patti is so excited that Tsubaki can't help but to approach a bear, who scoops her up in an embrace too tight to be a hug. And that's when she hears the muffled yelling and feels the bear begin to move as she struggles in its arms. But she can't transform, not here, and it's strong, too strong, and before she knows it, she's dumped in a cage, tangling with similar bodies dumped alongside. By the time they untangle, she realizes everyone but Patti is with her, and the massive cage is actually hanging above the ring in the shadows among the spotlights that shine down, giving them all a view of the teddy bears surrounding Patti below.

She doesn't look happy anymore, fists balled at her hips, her scowl visible even so far below.

"Give Sissy and Kiddo and all my friends _back!_ " Her voice is angry and wavering.

The bears don't speak, though perhaps it is only that Tsubaki cannot hear them because Patti continues shortly after.

"They do _so_ belong here, it's my soul and they're family, dummies. _Give them back!_ "

There's another pause, more silence, before Patti says, voice calm but strong, "Then you're just the same as her and I don't want you here. I'm never alone as long as I have Sis and Kiddo and everyone. So just go!"

And with that, all hell breaks loose as Patti starts a battle royale with the same pack of oversized teddy bears that had managed to put them in the cage they watch from. Only, this is Patti's soul and she flips, kicks, and punches them out of the ring one at a time, bolstered by the resonance from Soul and Maka in the cage that lends the anti-demon wavelength, until only Patti remains, victorious. The cage begins to lower as "Eye of the Tiger" plays a second time, and soon enough it's in the center of the ring and the door opens, freeing them all. Patti doesn't hesitate to tackle Kid and Liz to the ground in a hug before moving on to each of them, and Tsubaki is more than happy to take her turn, proud of her friend. She knows what it's like, not to want to be alone, and she hugs her back all the tighter.

As Tsubaki gets up from her knees, Patti moving on to others, she notices the cage is gone. In its place is a much smaller teddy bear that looks like its big brothers, also sporting a smaller daisy wreath, though this one has no thorns.

Patti scoops it up and hugs it to her, smiling at them all.

"You really miss Bosley, huh?" Liz says with a sad little smile.

"A little," Patti admits.

"I'm sorry she took him. She shouldn't have, you know, but-"

"I'd miss you more." Patti cuts her off. "I'd miss you _most._ "

"Me too." Liz smiles as she gives her sister another hug. "Me too."

* * *

It isn't long before they find themselves singing another song, entering another soul. Liz suggests for herself a Pink song Tsubaki vaguely recalls called "Fuckin' Perfect" and it works well, the ring disappearing and a large cityscape manifesting around them in its place.

The buildings are so high it feels like the bottom of a canyon, dark and ominous amidst pouring rain, crackling lightning, and booming thunder. In spite of the storm, the streets are far from empty, shadowy figures roving all around. They threaten with weapons and as Liz exclaims they need to find shelter, no one finds it in them to disagree. She leads them through streets she seems to know well, tugging Patti closely behind her, but as she tries several doors, each is barred to them.

Turning around as they reach yet another barred door, a large, shadowy library, double doors bookended by two large pots of oversized, thorny flowers, Liz eyes the group warily with a sigh.

"I think I know a place we can go, but it's-not exactly nice."

"Sis." Patti squeezes her hand. "If it's in your soul, no one cares. If it's part of your soul, then it's already nice enough."

The smile Liz offers is absolutely forced, but she nods and leads them in a new direction. The streets around them get dirtier, the buildings shabbier as the shadowy figures close in, edging closer, menacing. There is a sense of desperation radiating from Liz that echoes through the group as they hurry through the streets, soaked and miserable in the thick of the storm, cold rain pelting their faces as the lightning continues to crack at ever more frequent intervals. Only Patti seems content, navigating the streets alongside her sister with the practiced ease born of experience. These streets had belonged to her as much as to Liz. Sometimes, it's easy to forget where the sisters had come from, the life they had led before coming to the DWMA, but clearly, that life still haunts Liz, still looms large within her soul. It dawns on Tsubaki that if her own brother is her personal albatross, then perhaps Brooklyn is Liz's burden, the weight she carries still. The sudden urge to hug her friend is one she stifles-now is far from the time.

Eventually, they come to a worn down, six story brick building nestled in the shadows of two taller buildings, the steps strewn with garbage and debris, gray and indistinguishable when so soaked through with rain. Liz leads them up wordlessly, slamming the door behind them as the shadowed figures draw near, and into a small entry with chipped linoleum and peeling paint to a narrow flight of stairs. The steps are creaky, some are wobbly, and if there had ever been a railing, there isn't one now. They move up flight after flight, Liz's pace quickening with every step past more peeling paint and chipping linoleum, until they reach the fifth floor and a worn, peeling door that looks like every worn, peeling door they've passed. The number 56 is above the keyhole in bold black lines, and Liz somehow produces a key from her pocket, the door swinging open as she uses it to let them all inside.

The interior rests in shadows, though shabby furniture, a couch and coffee table are just visible, along with an old, rabbit eared tube television sitting on an overturned plastic crate. What appears to be a kitchenette is off to one side, though it's too dark to tell much other than it's there, and there's a double bed against the far wall unmade, pilled, frayed blankets strewn over it haphazardly along with a few lumpy looking pillows with stained covers. The only light comes from a small lamp at a battered little wooden side table next to the bed, illuminating a water glass full of half dead dandelions, stems covered impossibly with incongruous black thorns, and a picture in a well worn plastic frame. The picture is of Liz and Patti, much younger, wearing leather, and framed by the streets of Brooklyn, the yawning, canyon-like buildings towering over them looking like they might swallow them up. Both girls scowl at the camera, and Liz's middle finger is raised proudly. These, then, are the famed Devils of Brooklyn.

Liz turns around to face them all, arms wide. "Well, it ain't much, but it's home. You two figure out what we need to soul zap to get the fuck out of here?" Her eyes turn to Kid and Maka, who exchange a look Tsubaki can't quite read, before Maka speaks.

"It's everywhere, a lot like with Tsubaki and your sister, though faint. And it's also-"

Loud pounding at the door cuts her off, and Liz scowls. "Don't answer it, we're good in here, they ain't gonna-"

The pounding becomes bashing as someone-or someones-are clearly trying to bust down the door. Liz rushes up to bolster it, but she's too late, and the door splinters in off the hinges, slamming against the wall as shadowy figures stream through. The group backs up, fighting stances evident, resonance heightened, but Liz stands her ground in front of them all, fists balled at her sides, Patti right beside her. Kid steps up to her other side, and they stare down the group that has come through the door. Their faces are shadowed by hoodies and ball caps and bandanas, though they all wear some variation of gray and black. Tsubaki is pretty sure they must belong to some kind of street gang-there are guns, and knives, and baseball bats among them.

"Ya ain't welcome," Liz says, voice gruff. "Get the fuck outta here or I'll get ya out myself." Her accent is thick in a way Tsubaki hasn't heard in from her in years.

The one in front, medium height and wearing a frayed hoodie, takes down the hood, and a younger, rougher version of Liz stares them all down, blue eyes cold and flashing dangerously. There's a gun in her hand that looks suspiciously like Patti, and it's trained their way.

"Like fuck I ain't welcome in my own damn place. You an' Sis can stay, but the damn freak show can go scurry back to DC where they belong."

Liz scowls at her doppleganger. "Like we don't live there, too, but this is my damn soul and they can be here if I say they can, so fuck off-"

The laugh is harsh and bitter. "You can live there all ya want, but ya ain't eva' gonna be shit. I don' care how much fancy what the fuck eva' ya buy, or how prettified yer nails are, or if ya live in that damn mansion-yous always gonna be Brooklyn. May as well jus' come back, 'cause ya ain't neva' belonged there, ain't neva' have, an' ain't neva' will."

"This isn't me no more," Liz says, voice quiet, accent far less heavy. "I'm not _you_ anymore. I—Brooklyn is always gonna be with me, but it's not home anymore. It's not—where I belong." Her tone changes, lightens, like she's come to a realization. Maybe she has, Tsubaki decides, watching her take a step forward to stare down her younger doppelgänger. Her voice is strong as she finishes. "Home is where my family is, and this—" she puts a hand on the shoulder of first Patti, then Kid. She spins on her heel to throw her arms wide towards the others before turning back around"—is my family. And my family lives in Death City."

"Whateva." The doppelgänger rolls her eyes. "Who needs yous anyway? I'm outta this shit hole." And with that, she and her gang fade away as the room fades around them, shifting, changing.

Before long, it's an airier space, brighter. The walls are a soft blue, and behind them all are French doors with a balcony. The now meticulously made bed still has a side table, but this one is clearly antique, and there's a new picture on top—one of Liz, flanked by Kid and Patti, all in spartoi uniforms. Liz looks happy in this picture, the scowl from before long gone; they all do.

In the vase where there had been dandelions are now a mix of fresh wildflowers, not a thorn to be seen.

"I knew you could do it!"

Tsubaki can't help the laugh that escapes as Patti tackles her sister in a hug before tugging Kid into their little embrace. And while Kid might look a bit uncomfortable, he smiles nonetheless, though Liz's smile is widest of all.

* * *

Deciding who to cleanse next turns out to be a challenge.

Up until now, it's been a natural progression, Maka largely making the choice as the one who has both soul perception and the ability to counter madness, but when she suggests Kid go next, he balks.

"I think you should be next, actually." His golden eyes are piercing as he looks at Maka. "After all, if the goal is cleanse where the infection has most spread at the end, your soul is clearer than mine."

Maka purses her lips at that, eyes going glassy. Her nod is reluctant. "Technically, you're right," she agrees, "but Soul is my partner, and he's the most affected, so—"

"That's not really relevant here," Kid insists, cutting her off. Such abruptness is out of character, and Tsubaki can feel a hint of anxiety radiating from him, but then, if he's fighting back encroaching madness, perhaps it makes sense. "It's important to work from the bottom up. Surely you realize this."

Another reluctant nod. "If you think it best," Maka says, and the matter settled, it's time to choose a song.

That Soul is the one to make the suggestion surprises exactly no one, and a few minutes later, they're working on learning Green Day's partial song,"She's a Rebel." Since several of them know it already, they've moved off to the corners of the room in groups to learn it. Tsubaki has been trying to teach Black*Star, but he's being typically stubborn, so she gives herself a small break as Liz takes over and Tsubaki proceeds to pace the room.

What she overhears as she does so gives her pause.

While Soul had offered to teach Maka the song, they are either finished or on a break of their own, voices hushed and strained.

"I don't like it," she hears Maka say. "He's right, the madness is deeper set within him, but he's a _death god._ If Kid loses his hold on this, it's a lot worse than if anyone else does." She shakes her head. "I really wish we could deal with his soul first."

"It'll be okay," the weapon's tone is reassuring. "Kid's pretty stable and he's got the group. We can handle this. And if you're cleansed first, that should help us deal with his soul better, I figure."

"I guess." Her sigh is one of defeat and Tsubaki can't help to feel the concern she radiates. If Maka is this worried, maybe they all should be—yet, it could also be how the madness affects her since she _is_ more infected than the others before her.

Tsubaki supposes they will find out soon enough.

Walking back, she works with Black*Star further, and eventually, everyone is ready and they sing. With a soft glow that becomes a blinding flash, they once again find themselves shifting, the feeling just as odd, just as disorienting as it had been the first time and every time since.

When she gets her bearings and looks around, Tsubaki finds they are standing on a wide green plain. Off in the distance stands a tower, rising high into a bright sky strewn with clouds. Though it appears to be mid afternoon, the light is mostly ambient. Though the base isn't visible below the horizon, the tower radiates light from its peak, beckoning them all forward, replacing the sun in the sky as the only visible marker.

This, then, is Maka's soul.

The shadow weapon can't help but think the the tower seems just a little melancholy standing there by itself, radiating light for others all alone.

"I'm guessing that's where we need to go?" It's Soul who breaks the silence, hands shoved into his pockets.

"I think so?" Maka sounds hesitant.

"Shouldn't you know? It's your soul." His skepticism is palpable.

"I'm not a weapon, Soul," she snaps. "I've never really—been inside my soul like this, okay? Just—let's go."

When she stomps off in the direction of the tower, they all have little choice but to follow, though the trepidation she radiates feels so much like a bad omen that Tsubaki has to work to stifle it.

The walk across towards the tower surely feels longer than it really is, an interminable trudge across the flat, grassy plain. Eventually, as they draw closer, still moving steadily through knee high grass, it becomes apparent that the tower is attached to a church. Made of old stone and stained glass, it looks vaguely gothic, and the smooth stone tower that rises from the center is an anachronism at best. The closer they approach, the more clear it becomes that the light that beckons from the top of the tower flickers erratically, signaling the encroaching darkness. As they approach the church, looming high, thick ropes of ivy crawl up old stone walls, interspersed with creamy flowers and thick, black thorns.

They mount well worn stone steps, finding themselves at a large, solid oak door.

"Figures your soul would make us go to church," Black*Star scoffs, which earns him an elbow to the ribs from Maka for his trouble. Tsubaki manages to hold him back from a full blown brawl with a touch to the shoulder, silently communicating the need for calm. Her meister doesn't always listen, but when she is pointed, as she is now, he generally concedes. Squeezing his shoulder in silent thanks laced with praise, Tsubaki sighs her relief—the last thing they need in here is a full on brawl.

The doors are heavy and open inwards when they try, leading to a church inside that is light and bright with many stained glass windows that depict nothing, abstract mixes of colors.

When everyone looks to Maka for where to go next, she sighs. "Maybe the tower? I'm not really sure-it's not easy to-to tell, I guess, but the light there was flickering."

"It's your show," Soul says, reassuring. Maka nods, and guides them to the back of the church and through a door that contains only stairs, a spiral set going high up into the tower, and another set leading down into yawning darkness lit only by a far off flickering lantern on the wall.

"What about down there?" Kid asks, gesturing to the stairs below.

"No," Maka nearly snaps, shaking her head violently. "That's not-I mean, I think we should try the tower, okay?"

There is a leeriness the meister quickly tamps down, and Tsubaki wonders if the others notice. As is, a few looks are exchanged, but Soul speaks before anyone else can.

"You heard her." He starts up the stairs, Maka right behind, and the others have no choice but to follow. Soul always has been defensive of his meister, but since he generally also calls her out when she's being needlessly stubborn, Tsubaki has to trust they know what they're doing. She follows just after and wonders exactly what they'll find in Maka's tall, lonely tower.

The steps are steep and narrow, spiraling up and up towards the far away light of the tower that stands high above the plain. Much like the journey across that plain itself, the journey up the steps feels unending, yawning into a haziness where it could be slow minutes or far longer. Eventually, they reach the top, a circular room enclosed by windows, a large globe of light floating in the middle. The view out onto the plains that stretches around them endlessly is beautiful, the greens and golds lovely in the perpetual afternoon light, but it also feels incredibly isolated, sitting so far above so much nothing. Is this Maka's truth, Tsubaki wonders? It feels like only part of it, and far too lonely.

Turning her eyes to the globe itself, the flicker is even more evident than it had been before, pulsing between pure, nearly blinding light and deep darkness. There is an equal contrast between warmth and a uncomfortable cool that is disconcerting.

Soul and Maka stand near it, eyes closed, his hands on her shoulders as he stands behind her as before. Both wear deep frowns, and she senses frustration.

When their eyes snap open and the light still flickers, Tsubaki knows something is wrong.

"It's not-" Maka shakes her head.

"We'll find it," her partner reassures her with a squeeze to the shoulder before backing off.

"But the light still flickers, is it not the source?" Tsubaki speaks her mind because everyone else looks just as confused.

"The light it-it's being interrupted by the darkness, but it's just an effect. It's not the source." Maka looks troubled, her frown deep.

"Then where the fu-" Black*Star starts, but he's mercifully cut off.

"The basement," Kid says firmly, and Maka nods her response.

The trip down the tower is just as long, and the group is uncharacteristically quiet, Maka's heavy mood weighing down their collective resonance. She leads the way with determination in her stride, but when they finally reach the bottom and face the steps going down into deep darkness, she pauses.

"It'll be okay." Soul steps beside her and takes her hand, voice so soft Tsubaki almost doesn't catch it.

Maka's nod is firm, the forced smile showing just a little of her habitual courage.

"Let's go!" she declares with an enthusiasm she clearly doesn't feel, the hesitancy she works hard to quell still seeping through. With firm, measured steps, she begins to go down the stairs, her deathscythe close behind. Tsubaki again follows third, and as a group, they make their way into artificial night. This descent feels even longer than their tower ascent had been, so deep down they must be far beneath the surrounding plain. Occasional lanterns, ornate and silver, light their path, a small globe within each that looks much like miniatures of the larger light above. Like that light, they flicker, and they are spaced so far apart that they remain in deep shadows much of the time, the faintest light guiding their path.

Eventually, even this must end, and they come to the bottom, a long hallway lined with large pictures on the wall stretching into the distance. The lanterns here are much closer together, the space bright with their light, but they still flicker, casting the place into shadow between bursts of brightness.

After a brief pause, Maka begins a slow walk down the hall, studying each of the oversized paintings, all in heavily wrought, gilt frames. They begin with images of her childhood-her parents together and happy, tiny Maka with both of her parents pushing her on a swing, child Maka reading on her papa's lap. These quickly change from familial bliss into something more sinister-child Maka looking alone as she watches her parents argue, Spirit Albarn with a woman on her arm who isn't his wife with Maka hiding and watching, Maka's mother with packed bags in hand as an adolescent Maka pleads with her in tears. The meister stares down each image stoically. These represented her life as it used to be.

The images change after. Her mother is gone, her father rarely appearing and always looking pleading. Central to these new images are Soul, though her other friends feature prominently. In some, they are happy, in some they bicker, and in some they fight-kishin, witches, once or twice each other. Maka pauses for a long moment in front of one particularly gruesome painting that depicts her on the ground in front of heavy, broken doors, Soul bleeding out in her arms, and Soul squeezes her shoulder reassuringly before she moves on.

There is a pattern other than the progression of Maka's life that Tsubaki notes; in each image, somewhere, are flowers with thick, black thorns.

A painting depicting Crona's room in the basement, empty, gives Maka another long pause, and there is a pang of deep concern and regret before she continues down the hall. Eventually, the paintings depict here and now, the lot of them standing in front of the church in her soul.

After that, the images stretch on past what is or has been. These paintings are darker, hazier, cast in deeper shadow, and Maka stiffens more the further down they go, face a mask of forced neutrality that poorly mimics her partner's habitual boredom, emotions beneath the surface barely contained. Each painting shows someone leaving, their back to a distraught Maka. Professors. Other members of Spartoi. Liz, Patti, Kid, Black*Star, Tsubaki. Her papa. An image of Soul in the hands of another meister, then one where he and the red haired girl who had just wielded him walk away hand in hand. The smile he levels over his shoulder as he walks away is cruel, and the Maka in the painting is utterly broken, tears barely held back.

In the final image on the far wall, Maka is alone, collapsed on the ground in tears in a bed of lilies, thick, black thorns littering their stems.

Maka stands before this last image, fists balled, posture stiff. Everyone has looked on in silence until now, too afraid to break the spell, the quiet awe of this innermost sanctum of their friend's soul, but Soul takes a deep, audible breath from beside her, and says, voice soft and careful, "You know this isn't real, right? I'm not going anywhere. Not until you want me to."

"I-" She turns to him suddenly, shaking her head violently, then recovers herself. "I mean, I _know_ that. I do." Maka lets out a long breath. "This is just my fear to face, I guess."

"You don't have to face it alone," Tsubaki says, stepping closer. "None of us are going anywhere right now, and we're all here with you. We're your friends."

"Hells yeah!" Black*Star fist pumps. "We got your back, Maks! Gods don't abandon their closest minions!"

"Can't get rid of us that easy," Liz puts in.

"No way, no how!" Patti agrees, tackling Maka in a side hug and grinning up at her before skipping back.

"We're all here for you," Kid agrees last.

It can't be easy, having so many of those she cares for most witness her darkest fears, her deepest insecurities. Still, Maka'a smile only looks a little forced as she says, "Thank you," before turning back to the image of herself alone.

Her stance is poised now, less stiff, more like she's ready to pounce as she glares at the image on the wall before her.

"You aren't real." Her voice is firm. "You aren't my future. I'm not like them and I walk my own path." She takes a step closer to the picture, only a foot away, and shouts. " _You aren't my future!_ "

There is a flash, nearly blinding, from the lanterns spaced on the walls before they settle into a warm glow, the flickering gone. Shortly after, similar flashes come one by one from the images that represent the future. Tsubaki sees the closest ones beside them change, of Soul with another meister, then of Soul leaving. One becomes Soul and Maka laughing together in a park, his arm slung around her, and the other is of Maka standing with Soul in weapon form, staring off into the horizon. Then the last image flashes, the one of Maka alone.

In its place, Maka stands surrounded by everyone who had left her, piling in for a group hug. Even her parents are there looking on, smiles all around. This image is one of hope.

Patti shouts, "Awwww! GROUP HUG!" and tackles a stunned Maka. Patti pulls Soul in, and eventually everyone joins, even Kid. It's soothingly, cleansing, Tsubaki thinks as she finds herself wedged between Soul and Black*Star. Sometimes, she forgets how important friendship is, how important it's become to her, she was used to being alone for so long. Leave it to Maka to remind her-to remind them all.

The darkness cleansed, they make their way out, and Tsubaki notes the flowers have left the images, the thorns all gone. Perhaps Maka will always have these fears-the images of her parents from before remain, in her past, fixed-but she also has hope. She also has a family of her own choosing, her own making. They all do.

And that, Tsubaki thinks as she looks at the friends who walk at her side, is far more powerful than even the darkest fear.


	4. Legacy

Pinpointing a song for Kid is more difficult, but when Liz suggests the Billy Joel song "Pressure," Soul seems to agree it might work, and Kid doesn't protest. He seems unusually quiet, and Tsubaki senses a block, a firm walling of feelings; that he's reluctant to enter his own soul is clear, though she can't tell why. They must, however, and he just as clearly knows they must, so they try it, standing out on the plain below Maka's soul church, bathed in the unwavering light of the tower.

Upon hearing the lyrics, then singing them, Tsubaki can't help but to feel it really does represent Kid's current reality, the pressure he faces and the uncertainty. Moments later, she sees the flash, feels the shift, and finds herself and the others deep within his soul.

This time, they arrive on a medium sized rowboat, just big enough to fit them all in close quarters. The boat is made of dark grey wood and floats upon an endless, placid sea of black waters, the dark sky stretching out ominously above and around. Overhead, the perfect circle of a pale sun shines white in the blackness, offering wan light, though there is little else to mark in this empty space. With only the sun and the still waters and dark sky, there is order here, there is perfection, though Tsubaki finds the empty expanse of nothing to be even more sad, even more isolating than Maka's tower.

A spec of something emerges on the far horizon, and Maka points towards it, taking up one of several oars. "There. I'm not sure what it is, and it's not all, but I sense it there."

"I do as well," Kid agrees, voice soft.

"Then let's get the funk out!" Black*Star shouts, grabbing his own oar with a wide grin. Together, Black*Star, Maka, Kid, and Patti row them all towards the far off speck and it becomes larger as they go, movement evident. Eventually, it coalesces into a small gray island of rock, a white figure dancing atop it holding something long and thin.

The closer they approach, the more familiar the figure looks until finally, everyone comes to recognize what they face. Black*Star lets out a loud groan.

"Him? Of all the shit you could be stuffing down, it's _him_? You have got to be fuckin' kidding me."

There are murmurs of agreement all around, and even Tsubaki finds dread mounting, thick and heavy.

Excalibur. The figure on the island is the legendary sword. In his hat is a rose, large, black thorns visible.

"Ha! Fools!" he shouts as the boat nears shore. "You must have come to hear of my greatness! A half formed godling can only hope to defeat Asura with a weapon much greater than he will ever be alone! Only with my help, only by harnessing your white hot rage, will you stand a chance." He reaches out his cane to tap Kid, at the prow of the boat, on the head once. "Well, then. Let us regale! Ahem!" My story begins in-"

"Actually," Kid interrupts quickly, standing to face the weapon. "We are here to face the madness that has tainted our collective resonance, and you appear to be part of that. So, if you wouldn't mind offering a bit of quiet so we can confer, I-"

Excalibur blinks his odd, round, lidless eyes at them, and how he manages it, Tsubaki really can't say, before laughing. His laugh is loud and exaggerated as he falls to the ground, clutching his sides, cane forgotten nearby. "As if-" he gasps out between guffaws "-a half formed god-" more chuckles "-could take on Me!" There is more rolling and laughing before he hops to his feet, leaps onto Kid's head, then leaps back to the island to bow with flourish.

"That was a good one, my word. Now, I suppose you're ready to hear my tale of greatness and claim-"

"I don't need you," Kid grits out, fists tight at his sides. "I have my weapons."

"Yeah!" Patti pipes up, standing and rocking the boat. "Kiddo has us!"

"Both of us," Liz agrees from her seat, looking a little green. Kid glances between them gratefully before turning his eyes back to Excalibur on the shore.

"And yes, I have anger. I have much to be angry about, I don't need more. I need a level head to face down fear, to face down Asura. I may only be a fragment of my father, only hold a fraction of his power, but I'm not alone, and I will face this with them."

The sounds of approval, of agreement from all with him echo and Tsubaki feels the heightened resonance between Maka and Soul and knows they are working to bolster their friend.

Excalibur sweeps his gaze across the boat then shrugs.

"If that's your decision," he says, more solemnly than Tsubaki would have thought possible. "Then go stand with your friends, though you all be fools!"

With that, the Excalibur rises high into the air and does a long, exaggerated swan dive into the water near the boat, soaking them all, as the island descends, leaving behind only the dark waters in its wake.

"Is that-it?" Liz asks, hesitant.

Shaking his head, Kid sighs. "No. I still sense it. Maka?"

The other meister nods. "There's more. A lot more. And it's-it's not in just one place. But it's closest-" her eyes go glassy for a moment, then she extends her arm to the left "-that way."

They row again, though there is no landmark to row towards, only Maka to guide the direction. It feels like forever before something is visible in the sky ahead, wreathed by the pale light of the artificial sun. They keep rowing, though their efforts slow with caution. Eventually, they come to a large figure hovering a good ten feet over the water, looking down on them all. The figure is still, unreadable behind a mask, though they all recognize him from their time in school.

The legendary Eibon hovers before them, larger than life, at least fifteen feet tall and somehow still radiating judgement with neither movement nor expression. Tucked in his belt is a black rose, large black thorns visible on the stem.

"You seek my wisdom?" His booming voice echoes across the water, creating small ripples.

"I seek to reclaim my soul," Kid corrects.

"And yet, that will mean little without the power to defeat the god of fear. You will reclaim it only to lose it for good."

There is uncertainty from Kid at this, consideration.

"Knowledge is power," Eibon continues. "Seek me, seek my knowledge, use my book, and perhaps you will be able to stand against the fear that threatens to consume you."

"Kid," Liz says beside him as Kid continues to stare, silent. "You know-you know the book is a trap. You know." She reaches out a hand to touch his arm gently, and Kid nods, though Tsubaki senses his unease. She also senses the increased resonance of scythe and scythe meister as they once more work to bolster their friend, to share Maka's wavelength.

"I know." It's almost inaudible. He takes a deep, steadying breath, lets it out, takes another. "I know," he says more firmly. Standing carefully, he looks up at Eibon. "Knowledge is as dangerous as fear if it consumes you."

"Is not ignorance the more pressing danger? There is so much you don't know. About your father, about Asura, about power. I can offer you that. The book can." The echoing voice runs through them all, enticing, compelling.

With a nod, Kid responds. "The Book promises strength, you're right. It might tell me much that I wish to know. But I spent a long time trapped within, I know it well, and with knowledge, with that power, it also brings obsession. To use the book, to walk your path, is to privilege knowledge and power over all, to forget what I fight for to begin with. I cannot. I _will_ not. Perhaps I don't know all, but that will come in time. I won't pursue power to forget why I need it to begin with. _I don't need you._ "

"Very well, if that is your wish." The voice is less consuming, less booming. "Go and face the darkness on your own strength and knowledge, may it serve you."

The words spoken, the figure fades and disappears, and they are left with only the light of the unchanging sun.

"You did good," Liz says from beside Kid as he sits again.

"Thanks, but-"

"I know, I know, that's not it. You've got this. We're here to help, and you're no slouch, ya know? It's gonna be fine." She grins at him, and he smiles back.

"I have no doubt," he says, though the feelings he still hides suggests otherwise.

They move on, rowing towards another spot as Maka guides them, another place where the madness has taken firm hold. This time, they row longer, farther, the black waters stretching on and on with nothing in sight.

"Fuck your soul is boring," Black*Star grumbles. Maka glares back and nails him hard in the forehead with a book from, Tsubaki-has-no idea-where, with a hissed, "Shut _up!_ We're almost there."

"What the fuck, Maka." Black*Star stands and the boat rocks wildly. "I-"

Tsubaki is about to intervene lest they capsize the boat in their exchange, but Black*Star cuts off and stares off into the distance.

"Da fuck?" he breathes out, eyes fixed on the horizon.

Turning her eyes in the same direction, Tsubaki lets out a gasp of her own. Emerging from the waters ahead is something dark and very, very large. It rises and rises, towering at least a hundred feet over them, a massive, shadowy, amorphous figure with two glowing, red eyes near the top that glare down their way. Along its ever shifting arms, there are spikes that look suspiciously like thorns. Menace radiates from the figure in waves and Tsubaki has to dig her nails in her own hand not to cower.

Everyone looks stunned, though Black*Star's face eventually takes on the barest hint of recognition, and Kid looks resigned.

No words are forthcoming, not like the others, just wave after wave of intense power, frightening in its ferocity. After a time, the waves slow, and the words resound within their head.

"Is this what you seek, fragment? The power you rejected before?" The urge to cower intensifies with each thought that intrudes within Tsubaki's mind, and a quick glance shows her that her friends are equally besieged, grimacing, burdened by the sheer magnitude of the being before them.

"It is not," Kid finally manages to get out, his mouth set in a thin line of determination. "I already chose another path. That decision has not changed."

"And yet," the entity forces its thought, its will into every mind, and it's little short of excruciating. "You are here, and you seek. The desire is still within, I can feel it, fragment. The desire to possess the power you were born to, to be whole, to taste the perfection you crave. The power that you tasted before can yet be yours. Seize it and claim your birthright." Red eyes flash. "Without power, you cannot help but to falter, to fail. Without power, the balance you seek in the world will be impossible, claimed by fear and madness. Seize it, and you might save that balance and all you hold dear. Seize it, and obliterate the fear that would destroy you."

Humming in the background is an increase in Maka's wavelength, amplified by the resonance with her weapon, supporting them all against the madness that threatens to crush their minds.

"I walked this path with you before," Kid says quietly, and shame radiates from him. "I walked it and it leads only to madness. Power without reason, without heart, it is not the way."

"You tell him, dude!" Black*Star yells out. "Just because his ass helped us out of the book doesn't mean we gotta listen to this bullshit again! Told you then I'm with you and I still am, still gonna help you kick ass and take names, you don't need this fuckwad's power!"

"Is that your final decision, then, fragment? Will you reject the power that might save your world?" The words in their mind are so painful, Tsubaki finds herself digging her fingernails more deeply into her palm to stay upright.

"Yes," Kid responds.

"Fuck yeah! We got this!" Black*Star echoes.

"Very well, then." There is something like a sigh in her mind, and the figure begins to sink below the surface of the waters from whence it had come until only glowing eyes are left at the surface. "Good luck," comes the final thought, "you will surely need it."

With that, red eyes fade below the depths and they are, once again, alone.

"Fucking _owned!_ " Black*Star says with a fist pump, rocking the little row boat dangerously in his enthusiasm. Tsubaki isn't quite sure what lies beneath the dark waters but she's definitely sure she'd rather not find out by being overturned into them.

"We aren't done yet," Kid says, and Black*Star groans, along with Patti, but Maka shushes them.

"Shhh! Something's coming," the scythe meister declares, and as if on cue, something new emerges from the waters below.

A dark shape shoots up into the air to hover before them, a blur that finally settles twenty feet overhead, coalescing into-

" _Father?_ " Kid gasps, confused.

"Hello, hello, Kiddo! How goes the prep?"

"I-you-" he stammers. "How can you be- _here?_ "

"You came from me, Kiddo, so of course I'm part of you!" He claps his enormous hands together in characteristic enthusiasm. The group all stand as stunned as Kid, not expecting Lord Death here and now, but of course, it can't _really_ be him, as much as it may look and feel like their leader. There is a small, white lily pinned to his chest, black thorns down the stem, that belies the truth of his existence. "Now, then!" the death god continues. "You want power, right? My power?"

The anger surprises Tsubaki as it rises from her friend, anger Kid doesn't bother to hide as he looks up at his father.

"Your power created me," he says with uncontained rage. "I _am_ your power, but only part of it, incomplete, _a fragment_. You made me to be this way, to-to obsess over order, over _symmetry._ You made me incomplete, and you never told me the truth, not about this, not about so many things. I'm not-I'm flawed, asymmetrical garbage, I'm not worthy of the power you wield even if-even if you abuse that power, use it to manipulate and deceive."

Kid clenches his fists so tightly as he continues to glare at Lord Death that Tsubaki can hear the crack of sinew and bone.

"You are my child, as I made you to be," the death god says with a shrug. "No more, no less. My power is your birthright, my legacy your legacy, Kiddo."

"And if I don't want it?"

Another shrug. "Eventually, it will be yours all the same. You are a death god whether you want to be or not."

"I won't be like you." His voice is firm and even and suddenly, Lord Death looms closer, larger, towering over them all.

His voice booms, his habitual falsetto gone. "So you reject me, then?"

Liz and Patti shoot up to stand beside their meister, rocking the boat with the motion. Tsubaki feels them both heightening their resonance with Kid just as she feels the resonance of Maka and Soul just in front of her.

"I reject your deception. I reject your manipulation. But-you are my father. I will learn from your mistakes, and when it is my time, I'll try to do better, to _be_ better. I know-I know I'll also make mistakes-" he falters for an instant, but his resolve firms once more. "But-I'll try to learn from those, too."

Kid's father looms even larger, even closer, and Tsubaki finds herself trying to press further into her seat.

And then, it's over as Lord Death lowers himself, shrinks back.

"Well, good! That's all I've ever wanted!" The death god claps his hands together again. "Good work, Kiddo, everyone! Be seeing you!" With that, Lord Death shoots into the air and his robes vanish, leaving behind only his mask. This expands rapidly, looming larger and larger before them until it is enormous before lowering into the water, leaving behind an island.

"Is that-it?" Liz asks, as stunned as the rest of them.

"It is," Kid confirms, though he looks more than a little stunned himself.

"Awesome!" Patti whoops, clapping Kid on the back, hard. "You owned, Kiddo! My meister totally rocks!"

"Fuck yeah, dude." Black*Star leaps up to similarly clap Kid on the back, nearly overturning the boat for the umpteenth time.

"You should be proud of yourself," Liz says from her place next to him. "I think your dad would be. I know you're pissed at him, and you've got every right to be, but you _are_ learning from his bullshit, and maybe this version is telling the truth, maybe he wants you to."

"Maybe." The word is quiet and pregnant with conflicting emotions, though there is renewed confidence in Kid's voice she's glad to hear, a tone Tsubaki has little heard since he emerged from captivity in the Book.

"Now." Liz taps a foot, suddenly impatient. "Do you think we could-maybe-oh, I don't know-get to that island over yonder and try to get the hell out of here before we end up soaked again?

"I think that can be arranged," Kid says, grabbing up an oar.

And with that, they paddle to shore and and discuss just how to find their way to the final soul.

* * *

It's not exactly surprising that Soul chooses his own song, as reluctant as he seems to be to go through with this at all-a reluctance felt rather than expressed, seeping from underneath every attempt to hide it. What is surprising is the song he chooses: Soundgarden's "Blow Up the Outside World." Soul has sometimes thumbed his nose at grunge, calling it a movement of "bad sixties cover bands," but Maka had told Tsubaki once that she'd discovered a large stash of grunge albums in the back of his record collection, so maybe it's less surprising than Tsubaski initially thought. It's hard to play the cool guy when your soul is at stake, and really, he's mostly outgrown all the fronting. Mostly.

As they reconvene, everyone comfortable with the song, Maka speaks to the group. "There's something I noticed as we were going, and I wanted to talk to everyone before we go into Soul's soul since I'm not sure what we'll find. There was-there was something in common with every soul, and I think I might know what we're dealing with."

"The thorns?" Kid asks.

"The thorns," she agrees. "They were there everytime, I'm sure everyone must have noticed, but it's less their presence than-than how they felt, I guess? They're just so _familiar_ , but it didn't really feel like the black blood, and-well-it's strongest in Soul so it _has_ to be the black blood, but maybe it's just being warped by Asura's madness, I don't know." She shakes her head in frustration. "I mean, the blood is definitely more active in-in your soul." She looks to her partner. "And, well, this new thing is bound with it, so it has to be the same. I'm just not really sure what we're going to find, so I wanted to make sure everyone is prepared. The black blood can be difficult to deal with."

Tsubaki notices that Maka holds her weapon's hand through all of this. His silence isn't exactly abnormal, but he's even more withdrawn than usual.

"We've been resonating with Soul's piano a long time now." Kid meets Maka's gaze. "We'll handle it, all of us. Together."

"Together," Maka echoes, and there is collective agreement as others repeat the sentiment. Only Soul remains quiet, stewing in unvoiced hesitance.

Soon after, they are singing, and whatever fears he hides are left to coalesce into a new reality.

It's nothing like what Tsubaki expects, nothing like the black room Maka has described. Instead, they find themselves in some sort of practice room, pristine white marble on the floor, a gleaming white piano in the center.

"Break time is over!" A tiny woman in a plain black dress approaches Soul, graying brown hair up in a severe bun. The white rose pinned to her dress is her only adornment, thick black thorns visible against the fabric.

"Miss Lamare?" Soul sounds surprised.

"Come, then," she tugs him towards the piano. "You need to practice your Vivaldi. Spring again, and keep it light."

"I-" he shakes his head and in spite of his over six feet of height, he somehow looks small next to the tiny woman who commands him. "Okay," he sighs, sitting at the piano.

He's not ten notes in before she stops him. "No, no, _no!_ Light. Keep it _light._ "

"I-" he begins again, but she cuts it off.

"I give _up!_ You are _unteachable._ "

The woman storms off, Soul blinking after her, and then the room shifts and fades and they find themselves in an elegant room full of fine furnishings. Soul is sitting on a couch several feet from the rest of the group, two figures with their backs to the group hovering over him.

"He must be off his meds. Didn't you tell the nanny to make sure he takes them?" The man's voice is stern as he runs a hand through his white blond hair, frustrated, though his posture remains stiff and perfect in his well tailored suit.

"I told her, and she insists he's taking them. Perhaps it's time to up his dose again." The woman stands primly in a designer dress, her own auburn hair in a smart french twist, a white flower with black thorns on the end woven in elegantly. They still look down at Soul, backs to the group, who all stand watching, hesitant, unsure of what to do.

"Have the nanny call his psychiatrist, then. You're sure this one won't push that family therapy nonsense again?"

"We're paying her enough not to," the woman scoffs.

"And you." The man turns his head back towards Soul, who flinches visibly. "Can you at least _try_ to act normal? Your concert is in two weeks and you're far from ready. Helena Lamare is the best piano tutor in the country and you've run her off just when you most need her expertise. I called in a favor to get Andre Figueroa out of Naples, and you had best shape up and do everything he says as he says it, do you understand?"

Soul looks small and stunned, sitting there under the scrutiny of the man and woman hovering over him. He seems about to answer, and from nearby, Tsubaki sees Maka finally jolted out of her shock, sees her start to move, but before she gets the chance, before he does, the scene shifts again, and this time, they're outside a large mansion. Just ahead of them all, Soul sits on a stone wall next to another young man who looks very much like him, only with blond hair and brown eyes the color of mahogany.

"I'm working on Mom," the man says, placing a sympathetic hand on Soul's forearm. "She's opening up to the idea of family therapy, even if Dad won't go. If you could just-maybe-meet them halfway, try to-"

"They aren't going to change, Wes," Soul shakes off his stupor to snap at the man. "They're never going to change, and neither am I. I'm broken. I don't _belong_ here. I'm never going to be who they want me to be, _what_ they want me to be. I'm _broken,_ " he repeats, and before Wes can respond, before Maka, who has taken a step towards them, can try for the second time to intervene, the scene is shifting for the third time in a short span. It's dizzying, all these shifts, and Tsubaki has to catch her breath as they find themselves in yet another new place. From the panting silence that surrounds her, she suspects they all do.

The latest space they find themselves in is much more akin to what Tsubaki would have expected from Maka's description of the black room, yet also different. It's a concert hall, thick, red velvet curtains draped behind a semi circular stage covered in black and red tile. At center stage, bathed in a circle of light, sits a large, black grand piano.

They stand near the front of the stage, red velvet seats behind them, steps leading to the stage near by. The theater is massive, with multilayer, golden balconies climbing the walls all around them, interspersed with eerie blue lights that cast them all into a faint luminescence. Around them, shadowy figures mill about, getting to their seats, each adorned with flowers on their lapels or at their wrists, nameless, faceless, and well dressed. Tsubaki hears the whispers as they pass- "Youngest Evans son," "disappointment, nothing like his brother," "dreadful, dark playing," "such an odd boy,"-and knows they are all talking about Soul, voicing his deepest fears, his insecurities, maybe even his memories, she really can't tell.

She fails to notice the man's approach, though his presence is clear as he speaks. "There you are! You need to get on stage, people are starting to talk." He is tall and blond and looks a lot like Soul, though his blue eyes are far too cold to belong to their friend. His voice is familiar, however; this is clearly the man who had stood over Soul before. The man grabs Soul's arm, trying to drag him to the stage, and as he does, the deathscythe's spartoi uniform melts into a black pinstripe suit, red shirt glowing in the eerie light. "D-dad?" he stammers, eyes wide.

"Get it together," the man snaps in response, pulling his son towards the stage. "You _will_ hold yourself as a proper Evans. Take the stage, play your set, and none of that minor chord nonsense. Try to channel your brother-light, airy, pleasing to the ear. Now _go_."

Maka steps forward, looking to intervene, to confront this threat to her partner, but Kid puts a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. "Don't," he says quietly. "Clearly, he needs to face this, and he knows we're here for him. Let him face it." She swallows and nods, and Tsubaki can feel the concern, the fighting instinct, the need to _protect_ radiating from her as Soul reluctantly makes his way on stage.

Polite, muted applause greets him as he ascends the steps and seats himself on the piano bench, posture straight and stiff.

The music he plays is light and airy, but there is something hesitant in it, something stilted that is jarring. It so clearly isn't him, and yet, he continues, the music so mechanical that it might have come from a music box. The whispers in the crowd mount. "Wasted talent"-"Dreadful"-"Such a shame"-and Soul's father stands with clenched fists, face scarlet. The misery from Soul himself as he sits and plays comes from him in sickening waves, and Tsubaki watches as Maka shakes off Kid's hand and walks to the stage, brushing past the manifestation of Soul's father to slide onto the bench next to her weapon. He stops his playing in a discordant clash of keys, and she shakes her head as he looks at her.

"This isn't you, Soul." Her voice is strong, commanding. "You should play what you want to play."

He says nothing, but he nods all the same, his posture relaxing as his hands slam the keys in another discordant jumble. And then-then-he _really plays._

The song is dark, haunting, a clear echo of his soul rendered in flats and sharps and a rising crescendo. There is an alternation between quiet and deafening, melodious and discordant, light and dark that speaks to his essence, his struggle.

It goes on and on, unravelling, revealing, and then, with a last crash of keys, a final, solitary note, it's done.

The quiet of the room as the song ends feels ominous, but is quickly broken by his friends mounting the stage to hoot and cheer. He faces them all, face impassive.

"This is who I am," he says with a sigh.

"I know," Maka replies, squeezing his arm lightly. "I like who you are. We all do."

"Well, _I_ don't." His father stalks up the stage, looming behind them.

"You know what?" Soul shoots up suddenly, hopping over the bench to face his father. "I don't give a shit what you think, not anymore. That kid who cared way too fucking much? That fucking stupid kid who was never good enough for you or Mom or all these Death damned people? That kid who tried way too fucking hard, who wanted so fucking bad to be what you wanted him to be? That's not me, not anymore. I'm not that fucking kid anymore-I'm a deathscythe, a fucking _deathscythe_."

"You were supposed to be a pianist." His father's voice is hard.

"I still am," Soul says with the tiniest shrug, "You tried damn hard to take that away from me, to make me hate it, and I did-for a long time, I really did. But you know what? That's part of me, too, and I'm not going to let you ruin it. So I'm a damned pianist. Maybe not the kind you wanted, maybe not the kind who plays sold out concerts. I play for me, and I play to support my meister and my friends, and that's enough."

"You're a disgrace. You're sick in the head, you've always been sick in the head. You think you're some hero because you can grow a blade like a freak? You aren't. You're a failure, like I tried to prevent but always knew you would be."

Maka shoots to her weapon's side at this, bristling, the others similarly closing ranks around him, but he puts a staying hand on her shoulder and they exchange a look Tsubaki doesn't quite catch before Soul turns back to his father.

"You're right," he says, and his voice is quiet and steady as he slips his hand into his meisters. "I'm not normal. I gotta take pills, and yeah, I see a therapist sometimes, but that's part of who I am, too, part of what I need to do to be okay. You pushed that on me to try to mold me into what you wanted, into the perfect son, the perfect musician. You tried to make me into Wes, but I was never gonna be Wes. And you almost ruined that too, you know. When I first went to DC, I wouldn't take anything, wouldn't see anyone, let the anxiety and depression eat away and shoved it where no one could see. It almost broke my damn partnership, almost ruined the best damn thing that's ever happened to me. But eventually-I got over it. You couldn't ruin that either, you don't have that power anymore."

"Tch," his father scoffs, his features warping, morphing, fading. His skin stretches grotesquely as it darkens, his body growing and thickening until a large, misshapen demon stands in the place Soul's father once had, towering over them all. Their surroundings have changed, too, the stage and all having shifted into a smaller room with the same checkered tile, the same odd blue lights, the same piano. "You're not over shit," the little demon says, and Tsubaki recognizes him as the Oni that Maka has told her about, though he seems far larger than he should be. "And someday soon, all these losers." He throws his arms wide. "Are gonna realize you are just as worthless as you've always been. You know what you have to do to change that, what I can do to help you."

"Shyeah, whatever," Black*Star steps up, arms folded over his chest, and Tsubaki is shocked he hasn't said a word before now, but perhaps, like the rest of them, he'd realized that Soul needed to work through some things himself. Either that, or he'd been too disoriented from all the shifts to get his bearings until now. Probably, it's a bit of both, but now he's clearly decided it's time to stand up for his friend. "Look, man, Soul is my bro. When he first got to DC he was a twerp, yeah, and I took him under my godly wing and decided he'd be one of my top minions, and shit, look at the dude now, he's a fucking deathscythe!" Tsubaki gives her meister a look, one he knows well enough to switch gears. She knows he wants to help and he's on entirely the wrong track to do it. "But it's more than that, man. I was a twerp back then, too, and when I got into it with some upper class douches one day when 'B wasn't around and they-uh, well, when I got into it, he had my back, fought his ass off, and even after they kicked his ass, he dragged my ass back to Baki to get patched up. Soul is family, and that ain't changing, so you need to shut the fuck up."

Tsubaki remembers that day. Black*Star had been in rough shape when Soul carried him home over his shoulder, in little better shape himself. Perhaps it's her imagination, but she thinks the demon looks the tiniest bit smaller.

"Yeah!" Patti shouts, leaping forward. "Soul is the one who found Mr. Giggles for me when I lost him!"

Mr. Giggles is Patti's favorite stuffed giraffe; it had been a rough day for everyone when she somehow dropped him from her bag at school. Soul had been the one to suggest back-tracing her steps as Liz and Kid tried to calm her, and he'd been the one to ultimately find the thing in the training forest. Does the demon appear to have shrunk further? Tsubaki thinks he must have. He's only a head taller than Soul, now.

"And Soul found a copy of my favorite album for me when I lost it." Liz steps forward, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder. The demon is now barely taller than Soul.

"He got everyone together to buy me a ticket back to Japan when my dad was sick, even when I insisted I was fine," Tsubaki puts in quietly, stepping forward herself. The demon is eye level with the pianist who faces him.

"He fixed every tilted picture in the mansion when Patti left them all skewed before she and Liz went on a weekend trip to California," Kid offers, also stepping forward. Their friends stand in a line facing the Oni, standing beside Soul, who stands tall in the center, now looking down on the demon who is a good head shorter than him.

"All quite touching, really," Oni says with a vicious smile. "Brings a tear to my eye." Catching a fake tear in one exaggerated motion, he chuckles. "Still doesn't change that you aren't good enough, and wiping your friends asses for them won't keep them around forever."

"He almost died for me. He _did_ die, for a minute," Maka says from her weapon's side. "That's not something you walk away from, not ever. So you're wrong, but you'd be wrong anyway. We're all friends, and friends don't walk away."

There is agreement echoing from the group, and Oni eyes them all warily, now only reaching Soul's stomach in height, before shrugging.

"Well, shit, kid," he says, grin returning. "Maybe you aren't such a loser. Guess we'll be finding out soon enough." The flower at his lapel turns to dust just then, and the Oni turns on his heel and walks away, disappearing into the velvet curtains draped throughout the room.

At that, there is a collective cheer, and Maka tackles her weapon from the side in a massive hug before stepping back, red faced.

"You did it!" she says, grin wide.

"Yeah-I guess. Thanks-for being there." He turns his eyes to the group all around him, red faced himself. "All of you. Thanks. Seriously."

"We got you, bro," Black*Star says, offering a fist bump Soul returns with a grin, before turning back to Maka.

"So, we're good?"

Maka goes glassy eyed. Even if it seems all should be right, she's far too thorough to assume such a thing lightly.

"I-" she frowns, closes her eyes, then opens them. "No." She shakes her head.

"What the fuck? My bro just-" Black*Star begins to protest, but Kid cuts him off.

"She's right, I sense it, too."

"Black blood?" Soul asks, voice cautious. When Maka shakes her head again, he breathes out loud sigh of relief.

"What is it then?" Liz asks, frowning as she looks between her meister and Maka.

Both sets of eyes turn to Tsubaki, and all other eyes quickly follow.

"What's-wrong?" she manages, confusion and worry and downright fear suddenly rising within her. Because she knows what's wrong. As she closes her eyes, as she focuses, she feels the taint that had spread throughout their link and finally recognizes it for what it is. And perhaps, the smallest part of her had known, had recognized it early and refused to acknowledge its truth, but she can deny it no longer.

It hadn't been the black blood at all. The taint that had spread, that they had cleansed, it had come from her and lives within her still.

The taint is all that remains of her brother.


	5. Letting Go

The silence is oppressive as her friends all look at her, and Tsubaki feels like she deserves more than simple stares, like she's betrayed them all somehow.

"You're the source," Maka speaks the words she expects to hear, and Tsubaki nods her understanding. "I thought-after Kid, I thought it was the blood, but the blood was just attaching itself to the real problem. It's why it felt familiar but not at the same time."

"The thorns. We saw those in your soul, on your flowers," Kid adds. "They must have spread from your soul. The question is, what _are_ they?"

"She told you before they were part of all that Nakatsukasa stuff," Black*Star puffs up, bristling. "You contained it, right? So what's the damn problem?"

"The problem," Kid says. "Is that the darkness is increasing again."

"I don't know how long what we did can contain it, honestly." Maka shakes her head. "We're going to have to figure something else out and _soon_."

"So figure it the fuck out." Black*Star sounds increasingly angry, and while Tsubaki understands and even appreciates his anger, it cannot help her now.

"Black*Star, it's okay," Tsubaki says, meeting his eyes.

"We're all on the same side here, if you've somehow forgotten," Liz says, hand on one hip. "So calm the fuck down."

He looks about to snap again, green eyes narrowed, so Tsubaki quickly adds, "Yes, we are all on the same side, and they're trying to help."

"So help." Black*Star crosses his arms then plops down on the piano bench.

"We need to get back to her soul first, try to figure out what we're dealing with." Maka looks worried, and Tsubaki feels bad, for worrying her friends and for being the source of so much trouble, the reason for dredging up so much hurt within them all.

Having a task helps keep her mind off of her guilt, however, and they try "Tubthumping" again, but it doesn't work.

"Maybe it's because we were getting in for the first time, then. Jumping between souls could be different. Maybe." This comes from Liz, but Maka agrees that's probably the case, so they discuss it as a group before Black*Star finally suggests "Ordinary World" from Duran Duran and Tsubaki agrees that it feels right. Once again, there are those who don't know the song, so they break up to learn. Soul looks decidedly uncomfortable as he and Maka go over the lyrics, eyes darting around occasionally at so many people within such a private space, and guilt gnaws at Tsubaki. It's her fault they linger here, her fault and her taint.

She startles as Black*Star puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing, comforting. "It's not, you know." Tsubaki blinks at him as he sits next to her, trying to figure out what he's responding to, but he continues. "All of this, it's not your fault. I know you, and I know you're feeling all guilty and shit, but you didn't do anything wrong, and everyone has your back, okay? So just-don't."

"I-thanks," she says, because she doesn't know what else she can say. "I'll try." Not that it's that easy. Not that she can make guilt disappear when her heritage runs so thick with it, so thick with blood and sin, so thick with carnage. He, above anyone else, knows this, but Black*Star has always refused to carry guilt for what he did not and would not choose. For her, it is not this easy.

Soon enough, they're ready to make this last journey together, and they join hands and sing and are once again whisked away in a flash that blinds them all.

When Tsubaki opens eyes shut against the shift, something like shock courses through her, courses through them all. Her soul is nearly unrecognizable, the bright flowers half blackened, the fluffy white clouds now dull and gray, the blue sky watery and muted. The clouds remind her painfully of her brother's soul and she _knows_ , knows this is his madness, his darkness that spreads like a cancer. Only, it isn't just her it corrupts now, isn't just her it harms, and she cannot, she _will not_ let this continue. She has to let him go.

Maka and Kid are already scanning, Maka with Soul at her back, Kid alone. They're wasting their time-Tsubaki already knows what the problem is, and though she's not entirely sure what to do to end this, she knows in her heart that she has to be the one to do it, that what has remained of her brother stays only by her will and her grace. Even the thought of ending that, of ending him so fully cuts and cuts deep. She'd been the one to take his life, to take his soul, and now she must be the one to obliterate what little remains. It hurts. _It hurts_ , but it must end. Now.

"I know what's wrong," she says, voice raised for all to hear. Standing tall, she keeps her tone steady, firm. She is Nakatsukasa and she will not waver, will not lose resolve, will not show weakness, not here and now, not within her own soul.

Every pair of eyes moves to her.

"Baki?" Black*Star questions from just beside her.

She keeps her back straight, her voice steady.

"It's my brother."

Looks are exchanged among the group, but only Black*Star speaks. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure." The words are painful to speak, ringing in her ears like a death knell.

"Do you know how to-to take care of it?" Maka asks, her tone soft and cautious and Tsubaki suddenly hates this all more, hates how her friends feel the need to tiptoe around her.

 _She is Nakatsukasa_ and she needs no one's pity.

But she is also Tsubaki and takes the tiniest measure of comfort in her friends' care, in their concern, in their clear wish to help her in any way, in every way.

"I-" She's about to admit that's not true when it hits her that she knows, suddenly and surely, she _knows_. "Do," Tsubaki finishes. "But," she adds. "I think I have to do it alone. I don't think you-that _anyone_ can come."

"You have to go _there_ ," Black*Star says. "Don't you."

"Yes," she admits.

"I can come. You know I can."

"We're all here for you," Kid adds, though he doesn't know, cannot know, the whole truth of what she must do.

"Not for this." How can anyone help her with such a thing? For this, she needs no witness, _wants_ no witness.

"What are you going to do?" Liz asks from beside Kid. She looks worried, and again, Tsubaki feels guilt and anger all at once.

"Meditate." It's only a half truth. It's enough.

"That's it?" Patti sounds incredulous.

"Mostly." Tsubaki doesn't have the heart to explain further, so she sits, the thorns pricking into her skin painfully as she does so. She relishes the pain, revels in it, her penance for what she now must do. Closing her eyes, she focuses on her inner soul, that part of herself that is dark and ancient. Sound fades, light fades, and when she opens her eyes again, she is standing on glassy black, gray all around her.

Raising her eyes, she blinks surprise, punctuated by a loud shout of, "Whoa!" that comes from Patti.

Tsubaki isn't alone. Somehow, someway, they've all come with her into this inner space, to this part of herself that she would not have them see.

"Shit," Black*Star breathes. "I thought you were gonna do it alone."

"I was," Tsubaki responds with a tired sigh. "This wasn't supposed to happen-but I think the resonance must have made it impossible for everyone else _not_ to come." It's the only explanation that makes sense, and she realizes she'd been a fool to think she could do this alone when they were all connected in the moment.

"Guess you're stuck with us, huh?" Liz says to nervous laughter from several of their friends. "So, what now?"

With another sigh, Tsubaki stretches her feet out in front of her, still seated. "We wait," she says, and taking a hint, the others sit, wondering just what it is they'll face. She would tell them if she could, but she really isn't certain herself.

Time passes. Games of roshambo start around her. Eventually, Maka and Soul play twenty questions, and Black*Star starts working on headstands. Somehow, her ancestral soul has become something akin to school lunch period, and it's jarring and comforting in equal measure.

All at once, everyone pauses as they all sense the same thing-power. A disembodied voice echoes through them all, forceful and impatient.

"Why have you come to this place?"

Standing, Tsubaki calls out to the endless gray sky, "I seek Nakatsukasa Masamune."

"Granted," the voice vibrates, and then there is silence, pure and true, as a figure emerges on the distant horizon.

Tsubaki knows who it is long before it's obvious, long before he's near, and as he draws close, as he steps up to stand before her, she says the word with calm finality.

"Brother."

"Hello my scentless flower."

"Why are you doing this?" She is Nakatsukasa and this is her domain; she will remain calm, cool.

"Why does anyone do anything?" he counters with a small shrug. "But really, Sister, you welcomed me in, did you not expect me to make myself at home?"

"I allowed you to remain in my soul, what was left of you. I did not invite you to corrupt my friends."

"Your resonance suggests otherwise." A cruel smile graces his features.

The emotions she feels at facing him again tangle and writhe. Guilt. Fear. Confusion. Muted, distant relief. Even the remnants of affection. But she is Nakatsukasa, and she must not feel, not here and not now. Somewhere nearby, she feels the deeper resonance of deathscythe and meister bolstering her and knows what she must do.

"You are welcome no longer." She straightens. "If all that remains is your darkness, your cruelty, your madness, then I banish it, Brother. I banish _you!_ "

"And you call me cruel," he sighs before fading into nothing before her eyes.

An instant later, they are all back within the heart of her soul, red flowers all around, sky as blue as ever, clouds a fluffy white once more. The flowers still have thorns, but the darkness is gone, the thorns as green as the stems they rest on.

Grief crashes into her in waves at the realization and she collapses to her knees. He's gone. _He's gone_. Her brother is really, truly, gone.

Here, where she does not have to be Nakatsukasa, where she can be Tsubaki, here among her friends who had silently borne witness to her pain, she finally allows herself to cry.

She feels strong arms around her as Black*Star whispers, "I'm sorry," then the presence of other arms, other words of comfort. It cannot soothe, not yet, but it means something, to know she's not alone, to know that even if she has no brother, even if she has finally forced him to move on, she will always have her friends. She will always have a family.

It is in this cocoon her friends create around her that she feels it, faint but there, a whisper in her mind. Look. _Look._

She stands and her friends let her, give her space, though their eyes question. Driven by she knows not what, instinct or other, Tsubaki walks a short way and bends to pluck a flower, the green thorns sharp in her vision as she raises the stem to look closer. They're different now, the thorns-the darkness is gone, cleansed through her own will and her friend's purity, but still- _still_ -she feels it, feels _him._

"He's- _here_ ," she says, voice hushed, awe overwhelming.

"Wha?" Black*Star says, echoed by Liz's "Who?"

"My brother," she declares with conviction. "Somehow, he's still-here. Or at least, that small part of him left that wasn't taken by madness, that small part that was still good."

"You're sure?" Maka says.

"Yes. I don't know how, but yes." The relief she feels washes through her. The pain is there too, at having had to face him again, destroy him again, but this eases, it soothes. Part of him lives on even still.

"I suspect," Kid's voice is hushed and careful. "That Maka's wavelength helped salvage what remained untainted."

"Thank you," Tsubaki says. "Thank you all." She looks to each of her friends in turn and hopes they know how much she truly means it, how much each and every one of them mean to her.

* * *

When they emerge from their resonance shortly after, exhaustion sits on the group heavily. It's dark, their excursion lasting, as Stein quickly informs them, half the day. He seems pleased by this or maybe by the results as he tells them all to get some rest and drags a knocked out Spirit away—Maka had chopped him when he tackled her as she awoke, though the action was noticeably half hearted.

They had been lying in a circle in the clearing, their bodies choosing that position somewhere along the way, and after Tsubaki stands and stretches muscles stiff and sore with disuse, she brushes forest debris from her backside.

Peering up at the moon as her friends begin to disperse, its bloody grin leering down, she silently wonders _why now_? They've used group resonance with Soul for a long time, so why had her brother chosen now to latch onto the blood and infect her friends?

The moon offers no answers though later, when they've all slept and are debriefed, Stein will suggest her brother's remnants had likely been swayed by Asura's madness. It's as good an explanation as any.

For now, as Tsubaki completes her stretching, Kid, Liz, and Patti have already left the clearing, headed home, and Soul and Maka talk quietly as they pass to do the same.

"You really think it'll work?" the shadow weapon hears Soul say.

"I think it's worth trying. If resonance helped us find the madness, I don't see why we can't use it to find Crona."

"Alright," Soul says tiredly. "But tomorrow, okay?"

If Maka responds, Tsubaki doesn't hear it as they fade out of earshot and Black*Star's approaching footsteps work to mask all other sound.

"Ready to go home?"

"Yes," she offers simply, and as they leave the clearing, she knows that what they've all faced together today is neither their last trial nor their most difficult. With the threat of Asura looming, there will be worse to come and _soon_.

Deep down, Tsubaki is just glad that when they do face him, when they face the world gone mad, at least they'll all face it together.


End file.
